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SEVENTY-NINE

I WIPE MY FACE after that breakdown, after saying David’s real name — Wesley Price — aloud.

“Marcie,” says Silas from the back seat, “much as I love a good cry, I don’t have time for it. Here’s what’s gonna happen. Listen and listen good.”

A police cruiser rolls down the street, heading east, the opposite side of the street. Do I flag him down? Lay on my horn? What happens then? A shootout? Silas would probably take the officer out before he or she knew what was going on.

The cruiser drives past without incident, my heart rate decelerating.

“Where’s the money? In a bank, I assume. Safe-deposit boxes. That’s what I’d do.”

I take a deep breath and nod.

“Where? Here in town?”

“Champaign,” I say. “You can have it. You can have every penny. Just leave my family —”

“Do what I say, and your family will be fine. Now, what’s the name of the bank?”

“Prinell … Prinell Bank.”

“And you have access to the money? You have access to the safe-deposit boxes?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“Marcie —”

“I don’t know!” I shout, panicking. “I’ve never been there. I just found out about all of this, okay?”

“I swear to God, Marcie, if you’re —”

“I don’t know !” I shout, punctuating each word with a pounding of the steering wheel. “He — knowing David, he would have given me access.”

A pause. He’s thinking this over. That detail, access to the boxes, never occurred to me. What if I can’t get into the bank’s vault?

“Tomorrow morning, first thing, you drive to that bank,” he says. “I follow. You take out the money in those duffel bags, and you put them in your car. You drive your car to some parking lot nearby. You leave your car unlocked. And you walk away. Got it?”

I nod my head — and silently wonder what will happen if I can’t get that money out.

“Good,” he says. “Now —”

“Wait.” I turn to him. “First thing in the morning, I’m at the hospital. I meet with the doctors first thing at eight, when visiting hours —”

“I don’t care about your schedule. The doctors can wait —”

“No,” I say.

No. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow morning. I have to see David.

It may be the last time I see him.

“It … everyone will wonder if I’m not there,” I say, thinking quickly. “The police might get suspicious. They might go looking for me.”

He doesn’t answer right away. But what I’m saying should make sense to him.

“Well, I guess an hour more won’t hurt,” he says. “Fine, Marcie. Go to the hospital at eight and leave at nine for the bank. I’ll follow. And while we’re on the subject of the police,” he says.

He jams the gun against my neck again.

“If you get some clever idea about involving the authorities, just remember. Michael Cagnina has unlimited resources. If I walk into a police sting operation tomorrow, you won’t be any safer. He has plenty more people like me out there.”

“I know. I … I won’t, I promise —”

“Promises don’t mean shit. Get that money tomorrow, Marcie. Your life and your children’s lives depend on it.”

The back door kicks open. Silas jumps out and disappears around the corner.